Running Interference
by Kaprou
Summary: Peter Parker's Web of Shadows AU setting. Kravinoff and Connors get involved in a vampire hunt through New York. Read, review, recommend! (Complete)
1. Chapter 1

"Nothing like other people cooking for you when it's as nasty out as it is tonight," Peter said with a grin.

"I can support that observation," the tall man seated across from him said with a nod. "Especially when you're far from home. I tell you, I get really, _really_ tired of McDonalds."

"Who wouldn't?" Peter said. "This is my favorite pizza joint. Ahem." He turned his nose up a bit and glanced at the other man sideways with a grin. "May I take zees opportunity to recommend zee Barbecue Chicken? It's an excel_lont_ vin_tahze_, and the speciality de la house."

"Sounds good," the other man nodded. "My treat. I insist."

"Aw, come on, Doc," Peter said. "My town, I got this."

"Next time," the other man said with a warm smile. "Next time. So how have your studies been going?"

"Pretty spotty last semester," Peter admitted ruefully. "I had a few things come up. My aunt got sick, I was in a car accident, stuff like that. Made it tough to focus."

"That's all?" the other man said.

"Mostly," Peter shrugged.

"No girlfriend, huh," he grinned.

"Oh that. And I got a girlfriend," Peter said, shaking his head. "You're sharp, Doc Connors."

"I've been around college students long enough," Connors shrugged. "Is she pretty?"

"As a sunrise," Peter said, "and about as fiery. What've you been up to?"

"The usual," Connors shrugged. "I was in Chicago for a guest lecture series, thought I'd take the long way home. My wife hates it when I do that, but it's a lot easier than making another trip."

"Let's hear it for frequent flyer miles," Peter nodded. "No more trouble with the, uh,"

"No," Connors said quickly. "No, the good Doctor cured me of that particular affliction." He shifted his collar down to show the top corner of a bold red and black tattoo on his chest. "It's trapped in this… pattern thing. I'm safe. And so are those around me."

"Good to hear," Peter nodded. "So are you staying at the Hilton?"

"Hardly," Connors said with a wry grin. "Try the Motel 8. All I need. I'm not living here after all."

"Just came by to see the Doctor for your checkup," Peter said, his eyes full of mirth.

"Now who's sharp," Connors said, leaning back and raising his eyebrows.

Peter shrugged. "I'd be worried if I were you. Makes perfect sense. I hope he gives you a clean bill of health."

"He's not there," Connors said, his forehead furrowed with worry. "His assistant said he was on an investigative trip and she'd pass on my message. But I'm flying out tomorrow at two. So I guess I'll have to make another opportunity to visit him."

"I'm just glad I bumped into you on campus, especially on a Friday," Peter said. "It's good to actually have a chance to talk to you. Things were always busy in class. And now that you're not giving me a grade I'm in no danger of sucking up." He grinned.

"Here comes our food," Connors said. "I'm starving." He picked up his fork and scooted over a bit. As he did, his empty sleeve brushed against the wall.

"Once you have some of Luckee's Pizza, you never look back," Peter said with a grin.

"Not every day your whole life gets changed like that," Connors said. "And so affordable."

Outside, the wind gusted, clacking a tree branch against the glass. Peter started for a moment, then relaxed. "It's a wild night," he said, and his eyes got a little distant.

"I for one plan to spend it quietly," said Connors.

**xXx**

Two figures tumbled into a clearing, tearing free of the bushes.

"Where is he?" hissed one.

"I did not see him," snarled the other. They looked around, their sunken eyes glittering with rage and lust, their distended fangs flexing in their gums.

Their only warning was a rustling in the trees above.

The creatures glanced up, hissing, as a huge man dropped from the canopy. He landed between them, already moving. He held two halves of a broomstick, sawed at an angle across the center to create two sharp clubs, one in each hand. He whipped the first around and bashed the creature's head, knocking it back against the bushes. He spun as the other leaped, and he caught it on the chest with his stake. His longer arms gave him superior reach; the creature was impaled as he ducked its blow. It tumbled down by its fellow, twitching and gurgling, eyes huge as it began to wisp and smoke, as its skin charred and curled like smoldering parchment.

The massive man squared off with the other creature, his grin gleaming in the dimness, his eyes dark. The creature howled its unnatural fury and sprang at him, a slow learner.

The man ducked and thrust, and the creature's howl was cut off as its ribs snapped and buckled, the sharp wood puncturing its heart. The creature was tossed down to disintegrate by its partner. The big man looked around, his eyes almost luminous in the dark.

"She is near," he whispered to himself. He drew a machete from beneath his coat. Kneeling, he lopped the heads off the two creatures he had staked. He put the machete away and retrieved his stakes. Then he blended once more into the darkness, leaving behind the smoking and decapitated bodies.

**xXx**

Peter strolled through the front door, tossed his keys on the table, and shrugged off his flimsy jacket. He opened the fridge and pulled out the milk carton, slugging down a few swallows. The phone rang. He quickly folded the milk carton shut and tossed it back in the fridge, shutting the door. He snagged the phone.

"Parker Place," he said. "This is He."

"You make yourself sound like God," came an amused female voice.

"No no no," Peter said, "that would be _This is **HE**_. What can I do for you, MJ?"

"You don't waste any time, just cut to the important part," she said archly. "I figure I'm off work in two hours. Thought I might swing by. See if you are as delicious as you were the last time I was there."

"I've been rubbing myself in herbs and spices. My bathtub marinade is just about perfect," Peter deadpanned. "Did I mention I'm vintage?"

"You're something," Mary Jane said. "I may even bring something tasty myself."

"If you don't stop lining your clothes with aphrodisiac, somebody's going to get hurt," Peter said.

"It's all natural," Mary Jane said. "I'd have to take a shower to remove it all."

"Guh," Peter said. "We're about to break laws about legal use of the phone here. This is a toll free call. Remember, we're a kid's show here."

"Not what I auditioned for," Mary Jane said. "I'll see you at ten."

"I'll be here. Unless, you know." Peter glanced out the window.

"You're a lucky man," Mary Jane said. "If you stand me up, I just assume you're risking your life in some wild battle or something."

"It's gonna take me a minute to sort out exactly whether that makes me lucky or not," Peter said. "I'd better get to it. See you at ten."

She hung up the phone, and Peter walked over to the window and shook his head. Then he looked out the window again.

Fought the urge.

Lost.

Peter jogged down the block, baring his teeth to the chill wind. Once around the corner he lightly ran up the building to the roof, and stripped down to his mesh. He pulled the hood on, webbed his clothes in a bundle out of sight, and vaulted off the rooftop.

"This is stupid," he muttered. "I get a new apartment, and I go swinging around in my underoos. What has to be wrong with me?"

_The wind is bright in the sky, the whole city is alive with scents, and the moon rides high in the clouds tonight._

"Yeah, _aside_ from all that," Peter said as he whirled upside down, catching a tree limb with his feet and swinging around to higher altitude. "This is risky," he said, firing out a webline with a peculiar tearing zip and slinging over a street.

_Anybody sees you and wants to make something of it, just poke out his eye._

"You are SO unhelpful," Peter said through gritted teeth. He changed course and headed for the park.

**xXx**

The woman struggled as the pale men gripped her arms and dragged her effortlessly down the path. She tried to scream or shout, but her broken jaw prevented it. She squirmed, but their hands were like cold iron vises. She could not escape, and fear had taken hold of her mind and numbed it.

"There there," soothed one of the pale men. "Soon it will all be over."

He pretended not to see the man that followed in the shadows. The pale men exchanged a secret glance and smiled.

They stepped off the path through a gap in the bushes and dragged their victim further back into the inky darkness of the trees. Their shadow followed them.

Finally they pushed through the trees to a clearing where a pale woman sat amid the litter of half a dozen dead and drained husks that had once been people. Half her face was badly burned, and her neck had exposed ropes and coils of tendon and muscle beneath where flesh had burned away. She also sported a gaping burn in her torso.

"More," she managed, and the two creatures tossed the injured woman to her. She snatched her victim greedily and plunged in her distended fangs, slurping and tearing at the hapless woman's neck.

One of the creatures made a peculiar gurgling hiss, clutching its chest. Then it fell over, and the others saw a feathered bolt protruding from its back on the left side.

The burned creature paused in her feast. "Find him. Bring him… to me." She buried her face in the dying woman's neck once more.

The bushes rustled as a number of her brood moved to comply.

A dozen yards away the big man broke cover, running hard. He spun once in the open, bringing up the crossbow and dropping his first pursuer with an expert shot to the heart. Seven more came on as he tossed the crossbow aside and tore his machete from its sheath. His other hand snagged a stake from his belt. He twirled his weapons once and settled in a combat stance as they surrounded him.

Predictably enough, one leaped at him from behind. He spun, knocking its talons aside with his machete and ramming a stake through the exposed ribs at the creature's flank. Its leap carried it forward to crash on the grass, faintly whining as its body began to burn from the inside out.

The huge man continued his spin, lashing out at another of the creatures. One darted forward and shoved at his arm, stopping its momentum, as another snagged the machete from his grip. The big man ducked and twirled out of the way, right into the rest of the mob.

They bore him to the ground, hideous strength in their whipcord bodies. He plunged his thumb into the eye socket of one, crushed the throat of another, but to these things such damage was cosmetic. In moments they had pinned him, so they retreated to grip his ankles and wrists and head, leaving his torso exposed.

She glided from the shadows. The burn on her torso was smaller, and she had all her teeth back and some of the flesh on the side of her head. She gazed at the man on the ground with unabashed unnatural lust, and she slowly licked her teeth.

"You mind tellin me what you're doin to my big homicidal pal there?" came a voice from across the clearing.

The hissing mob of creatures turned to look at a man who stood twenty feet away, dressed in a single piece black leotard with huge oval eyespots, pale against the dark suit.

"Kill him," hissed the burned woman. Four remained with the prisoner, one for each limb, and the other three sprinted towards the newcomer.

The spider ghost sighed, glanced up at the moon, and at the last moment darted out of the way. The creatures skidded to a halt, but before they could turn he had leaped and kicked two of them, planting a foot between their shoulderblades. They were carried off their feet by the force of the blow and sent tumbling down the hill, flailing for purchase to stop themselves. The third snapped at the spider ghost, who easily evaded then pounded a backhand across its head that sent the creature soaring into its comrades. The spider ghost whirled to face the group around the man pinned to the ground.

"Bad dog no bite!" yelled the spider ghost, bringing up his forearms. With a sound like tearing silk he fired off two streams of globby fluid that slapped into the mouths of two of the creatures crouched over their prisoner.

"Enough, buffoon," hissed the pale woman. "We shall see what you are made of." She drew a ceremonial curved dagger from her belt.

"Sugar, spice, everything nice," the spider ghost said, ticking ingredients off on his fingers. "Wait, that's little girls…"

She lunged, but he slid out of the way. In a single bound he landed on the big man's chest, lashing out with his feet to knock two of the creatures away. He snatched the other two by the shoulders and smacked their heads together, distracting them long enough for him to spin and fire another webline out, pinning one of the charging woman's feet to the ground. She flopped to the earth very ungracefully as the spider ghost leaped into the trees with the big man in tow.

"And I thought Amway was pushy," his voice echoed back. "Isn't this how cults recruit?"

"Find him," the woman snarled to her brood. "Find him and we will crush him. Or worse," she said, an evil smile twisting her face.

**xXx**

"I must admit I did not expect to see you, but I am glad you arrived," the huge man said.

"What the hell is going on, Kravinoff?" Peter said. "And what _were_ those things?"

"Vampires," Kravinoff said decisively. "I am hunting them."

"For sport?" Peter said.

"No," Kravinoff said, and he half winced. "I have my reasons. It is not murder, my friend. In a way they are already dead. No pulse, no breath. Only malignant energies of the damned."

"For future reference, you know, it's a bad idea to attack eight supernatural baddies with a crossbow, a stick, and a flimsy sword. Just fyi."

"The idea is to attack a few at a time," Kravinoff said. "I was discovered." He shook his head. "I attacked when I should have waited, but they were tearing a girl's throat out and I felt compelled to interrupt."

"Yeah, I guess I can see that," Peter said, subdued. "So what now?"

"I resume the hunt. I believe she has about a dozen lackeys in her brood, and they are collecting living blood so she may heal grievous wounds sustained last night. I am trying to stop them before she is fully healed. She is at the heart of the brood, and slaying her means that no more could be created."

"Wow," Peter said reflectively. "I just fell headlong into a bad eighties movie."

"Scoff if you like," Kravinoff said. "Regardless, I thank you for your help. Now I must return to it."

Kravinoff gasped as a wooden shaft punched into his arm. He clutched at it and looked wildly along its flight path.

"It has returned to _you_, mortal feedbag," hissed a voice, and several pale men and women stalked out of the shadows. One held his crossbow and was reloading. "Prepare yourself. The Queen is coming."

"Kravinoff," Peter said between gritted teeth as he gripped the huge man's arm. "We're surrounded." Peter's senses probed the shadows, and he was disturbed at what they found.

"Let them come," snarled Kravinoff.

"I got this," said the spider ghost. He bounded toward the one with the crossbow, firing a glob of web that splattered across the bolt track. Then he spun, low, leg out, and knocked one of the vampires down.

Another vampire dropped from a tree on the other side of the clearing and opened fire with a submachine gun. The spider ghost whirled and bounded, senses delineating each and every bullet as it hummed through the air, anticipating their paths, keeping him out of the way; his mind was submerged in raw flashing instinct that slung him around faster than the bullets that hunted him.

Kravinoff dove for cover as the bullets scattered across the clearing, smacking into several vampires with little effect. He ended crouched behind a tree stump, where two descended on him. He curled into a roll and evaded their strike, smashing a stake into one's heart through its back. Then he dove for deeper cover as bullets sang and zipped around him, ricocheting off of trees and snipping through bushes.

"Now you've done it," the spider ghost said from up in a tree where his dodge had taken him. "Cops will swarm the park looking for gunfire."

"They will be too late," the pale woman said. "Get him."

Vampires swarmed into the tree, clambering up and chasing him. The spider ghost effortlessly spun and whirled further up, quite familiar with moving through trees in Central Park. He bounded out of the top of the tree, landing effortlessly on the ground far below, alone with their leader.

"I'd say something about them barking up the wrong tree but that's too easy," the spider ghost said. "Let's dance."

She hissed and struck at him, but he moved aside with the ease of instinct. She whirled, clawing and tearing, but he managed to slip and slide around her attacks as though he was insubstantial shadow. "I can keep this up all night you know," he said.

"Can you?" she hissed, narrowing her eyes to glittering slits.

"Yep," he said, and he shot a punch through her attack and crushed bone in the burned side of her face. She was flung back to crash against a tree trunk and collapse in a heap. "That's a fact. Now, I don't know about this whole 'vampire' thing, so how about I just web you to the ground and we wait for Mister Sun. If you're a vampire, you're an undead freak and you burn and die end of story. If you're a deeply misguided person in _serious_ need of therapy, then you got nothing to worry about except the triggering of your psychosis sending you spiraling into a comatose state." He paused. "Maybe that's not quite what I was looking for. But anyway, you people seem to fall apart when defeated, so I would tend to subscribe to the whole 'undead' theory, unlikely as it sounds to my trained scientific mind." He glanced over at the tree he had been chased around in, and noticed there were no vampires in it now. "Of course," he added as his senses probed his surroundings, "I suppose I have little to say on behalf of science's ascendancy considering I shoot webs out of my arms and I run across ceilings in my silk tights."

"Surrender or he dies," the pale woman said, rising unsteadily.

Her mob of vampires dragged an unconscious Kravinoff out of the treeline. One vampire cranked his head back and gripped this throat in its teeth.

"Oh," the spider ghost said. "Um. Well. So if I surrender what happens then?"

"Whatever I want to happen," snapped the woman. "Surrender!"

"I surrender. Release him," Peter said.

"You heard the man," the pale woman said as her eyes narrowed. "Release the hunter."

The vampire pulled his jaws away from Kravinoff's neck, and grinned. He gripped the hunter's head, ready to snap his neck.

"No!" the spider ghost shouted, stepping forward.

Kravinoff whipped his head back, smacking into the vampire's face. He roared as he poured every ounce of his strength and cunning into winning free of their grips.

The vampire queen darted towards the struggle from one side, the spider ghost from the other. The spider ghost veered off and slide tackled her, deflecting her snap with his forearm as she bit at him. Springing off of her and into the air, he squirted as much web down at her as he could manage on his upward arc. She slithered away from some of it, but found herself gummed to the ground for the moment.

The spider ghost landed striking, smashing one vampire off Kravinoff and tearing another one's teeth out of the big man's shoulder. Kravinoff shifted his weight and hurled one from him to crash into a tree, and then leaned forward as the spider ghost lashed out, knocking the last one into the brush.

"You okay?" the spider ghost said.

"Yes," Kravinoff managed. "They sought to subdue me, not to kill me. Let's go."

"Incoming," the spider ghost said. They turned to run when two policemen pounded into view on the path that intersected the clearing.

"Freeze!" one shouted, leveling his automatic pistol at Kravinoff. The big man half grinned as he ran, and he gathered himself for a spring into the treeline. Suddenly, a vampire rose before him in the trees.

Armed with a submachine gun.

The spider ghost saw it too; he fired out webbing that slopped across the gun barrel as Kravinoff pounced on the hapless undead.

"_I said freeze!_" shouted one of the cops, and both of them lined up with their pistols as Kravinoff smashed down, tearing the gun from the vampire and crushing a blow across its head, mashing it into the tree. The creature hissed and slashed at him, but he dodged.

Then the bullets slammed into him, knocking him into the trees as they pounded into his back and side. The spider ghost jerked his head around to see the cops fire off another volley into the brush as the vampire slid around the tree.

"Sir, you okay? Did he hurt you?" one of the cops said as they ran towards the vampire.

"Kravinoff," whispered the spider ghost. Then he dropped from the trees behind the vampire. The creature spun to face him as he backhanded it into the tree trunk with a thud that shook the whole tree. The police hesitated.

A moment later, the vampire was thrust out of the brush, it's head dented. It hissed and squalled, fangs distended, and scrabbled to get the police.

Faced with the fanged, gory creature the police blanched; then they saw its shadow, dark with huge pale eyes.

"Run," the shadow said in a flat voice. They turned and ran as a blow smashed home on the vampire's neck with the crack of shattered bone.

"They didn't even _see_ me," purred a lethal voice. The spider ghost just bounced into the trees, scooped up Kravinoff, and escaped at high speed.

Vampires that were none the worse for wear after taking the time to regenerate drifted out of the shadows. Their queen stood before them.

"Find him," she said. "We haven't finished our conversation yet. After all, he _did _surrender…"

**xXx**

The spider ghost lowered himself and his passenger through the skylight on a web line. Kravinoff was laid out on a table, and the spider ghost bounded up and shut the skylight. He leaned over Kravinoff, inspecting the webbing he had sprayed on the bullet holes.

"Still in me," Kravinoff muttered. He was ghastly pale, his mouth rimed with blood. "The bullets. Did not exit."

"Quiet," the spider ghost said. "Save your strength."

"Take that ridiculous mask off," Kravinoff gasped out. "You're going to have to operate on me."

The spider ghost stood stock still for a moment. He pulled the mask back. "I can't operate on you," he said. "I may have great senses and finesse, but I don't know a lot about anatomy."

"You'll have to learn," Kravinoff managed, "or I will die. I will need blood as well. B positive. A lot of it."

"You need a doctor, Kravinoff," Peter said. "I can't have your blood on my hands."

"No hospitals. No…" Kravinoff struggled for breath.

"I know a doctor that does house calls," Peter said. "Wait here. Rest. I'll be back with help."

Then he was gone, and Kravinoff was alone, slowly oozing precious blood.

**xXx**

"Just a minute," Connors said. He walked over to the door and opened it, then took a step back. "Peter! Are you alright?"

"Yes," Peter said, stepping into his room. His face was pale, his eyes glittering and bright. "I have a friend who has been shot. We can't go to the hospital. We need some blood, and surgery. He has two bullets in him."

"Hey, don't involve me in this," Connors said. "Get the police. Better your friend live and face the music than die because he didn't survive an operation in a non-sterile environment."

"Not an option," Peter said, his voice quiet and his face set. "He was shot while hunting a pack of vampires that has been killing off a number of people tonight. Their leader will track him down before long. We have no time. Maybe less. For all I know he's being killed right now."

"Again, the police," Connors said, "even if I did believe your tale of vampires, he'd be safer in a police station than in some motel room."

"He's at his safehouse right now," Peter said. "Bullets are a lot more effective against us than they are against them. I don't want any policemen to get killed. Last chance. I'm begging. Please come with me. If you don't my friend has no chance of survival. Please."

Connors looked at him for a long, long moment.

"Please," Peter said with a note of finality.

Connors sighed, rubbing his eyes with his only hand. "Alright, alright. I'll help you. I'll need a field triage kit, a first aid kit, and if you can get it a surgical kit. And some blood, equipment for a transfusion."

"Everything but the blood would be at the college, right?" Peter said.

"I suppose," Connors said.

"Did you ever turn your key in from when you were a guest lecturer?" Peter asked.

"No, I guess I didn't," Connors said slowly.

Peter nodded. "I'll get the blood. You get in and assemble your kit, I'll meet you between the science building and the lake as soon as possible. Okay?"

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Connors said with a shake of his head.

"Okay?" Peter repeated.

"Fine, I'll meet you there."

Peter nodded, and left.

Connors followed him out.

Then they went their separate ways.


	2. Chapter 2

"Thanks," Peter said to the cabbie, handing him a tip. The cabbie popped the trunk of the taxi, and Peter pulled the cases out then slammed the trunk. Connors clambered out of the taxi and picked up one of the cases.

"Charming neighborhood," he said, looking around at the mix of apartment buildings and warehouses.

"It's a safehouse, not a condo," Peter muttered. He picked up the case with the blood, the case with the equipment that Connors didn't already have. They went inside and up the stairs, down the hall, on the fourth floor.

Peter put a case down, opened the door. "Wait here," he said to Connors. He walked in half expecting to see Kravinoff smeared all over the walls. Instead, he was face down on the table where Peter had left him.

"I got a doctor. Equipment," Peter said. "You're going to be okay."

Kravinoff managed a grunt, and Connors came in. "Clear?" the doctor asked.

"Close enough," Peter muttered. "Kravinoff, this is Doc Connors. He's here to give you a hand. Connors, this is Kravinoff, the great white hunter." He half smiled at Kravinoff's back.

"Pleased to meet you," Connors said. "Let's have a look." He glanced sharply at Peter. "What's this gunk on his back?"

"Bandages, don't worry about it," Peter said. "Do your stuff."

"I'm going to need your help," Connors said. "I'm not a surgeon. And my situation is further complicated," he said ruefully, looking at his empty sleeve.

Peter took a deep breath as he put two cases on the table and popped them open. He propped the third up before he looked over at Kravinoff, then at Connors.

"Tell me what to do," he said, his jaw set.

"First we make this whole thing a lot easier," Connors said. "Fill this syringe with what's in that bottle."

"Please tell me that's anesthetic," Kravinoff said.

"It's anesthetic," Connors said. "We'll save all the real pain until you wake up."

"This is good," Kravinoff muttered into the table. "Much better than whisky for this sort of thing."

Then he felt a stick in his arm, and he listened to Connors count backwards from ten…

The operation got underway, taking all the focus the two men had in a desperate battle to save Kravinoff's life. No one saw the shadow that peered down on the proceedings with interest for a moment, then scuttled off the roof in search of its fellows.

**xXx**

Peter and Connors stood at the far end of the dilapidated loft from the gore-soaked table where Kravinoff lay senseless.

"I dunno, Doc," Peter said. "I've gone toe to toe with big clawed monsters, kicked in a guy the size of a Mac truck, and leaped from truck to truck on the interstate, but that's quite possibly the most nerve wracking thing I've ever done."

"You did it well," Connors said. "Without your help he would surely have died."

"Do you think he'll live?" Peter asked quietly.

"He's a big, healthy man," Connors shrugged. "We had to cut some muscles to get where we needed to get. But I think he's vital enough to survive without too much permanent damage. How did you come to know him?"

"Oh, that," Peter said. "He tried to kill me with a big knife. Tore my guts up. I invited him home for dinner. Long story."

"I see," Connors said, bewildered.

The skylights exploded, a shower of glass cascaded downward as lithe dark vampires dropped through, landing on the floor in a ready crouch. They zeroed in on Kravinoff.

"Oh no you don't," Peter said, tugging the mask up as he dashed past Connors and plowed into the vampires from behind.

In a heartbeat he was tangled with four vampires. They spun to engage him, snarling; one tried to get free only to find itself stuck to three of his fingertips, as trapped as if it had stepped on a bear trap. Another folded the spider ghost into a wrestling lock; the spider ghost flexed, and the vampire staggered back in startlement; the spider ghost was far stronger than the undead shadows.

"Nuff playtime," the spider ghost grunted. He flung a vampire the length of the loft, squalling and thrashing, and it flew in a flat arc to slam into Kravinoff's pull-up bar, its spine snapping so the back of its head briefly touched its back. It crumpled but did not start to smoke.

"Table," the spider ghost shouted as he punched his hand into a vampire's chest. He tore the heart out, a black sodden withered rag of flesh, and he tossed it away as the creature unleashed a rending scream. The spider ghost ducked and rolled, evading the attacks of the other two.

Connors threw his weight against one of the tables, knocking it over and running around to crouch behind it. To brace it.

The spider ghost snagged the two vampires and sent them sprawling. They each slammed onto one of the table legs, impaled through the chest, sending the table skidding back shoving Connors with it. Smoke wisped up from the slain vampires immediately.

"Tell me you brought some more," the spider ghost said, voice hard and lethal.

Six vampires dropped down through the shattered skylight. One of them was the pale woman.

"I brought some more," their queen said, her smile vicious. "I am Necra. Soon you will call me goddess." She looked directly at the spider ghost.

"Wow," the spider ghost said. "Now I feel like I'm getting hit on in a seedy bar."

"Slow him down," Necra said. The vampires pounced.

The spider ghost hurled himself to the side, noticing that Necra's wounds had all closed and her alabaster skin was flawless. The vampires pursued, and he found himself hard pressed to stay out of their clutches as he twirled and ducked, running up the wall. They leaped, forcing him to the side as he eluded them.

"Yo goddess," he pattered as he scrabbled along the wall, the vampires leaping after him. "How many people you kill to get your complexion back?"

"About ten," she said languidly, waving her hand. She started walking towards Kravinoff. "Who can keep track."

The spider ghost propelled himself forward, landed in a roll, and smashed the table Connors hid behind. He popped up with a table leg in each hand.

"Let's go," he gritted out. He slid under the first strike, thrusting a table leg into the second charging vampire's chest with a popping crunch. Swinging the corpse around, he slammed the other leg into the back of the lead vampire, tearing through its flesh and sending it banging into the wall.

With a spring he was over the last two that pursued him. He touched his fingertips to the tops of their heads and exerted himself, slamming their skulls together so hard they shattered and sprayed their contents in a flat ring. The spider ghost hit the floor in a miasma of dissolving vampire.

"This has gone far enough," he said, glaring at Necra and the remaining vampire that guarded her.

"I quite agree," she said demurely. "I accept your surrender."

"I think it's about time somebody smacked your eye teeth out," the spider ghost said. He slung in close to her and kicked, but she was already moving out of the way. His senses went wild as the other vampire pulled a speargun out of its coat and lined up with super human speed. The spider ghost contorted out of the way—

The vampire compensated and fired out a shaft that punched into the muscle over the spider ghost's collarbone and flung him back, pinning him to a support beam.

Necra pounced, moving fast. As the spider ghost yelped she was on him, her fangs flashing. She shoved his arm aside and in a smooth motion she plunged her mouth down to lock on the spider ghost's shoulder.

The spider ghost let out a scream as she bit down. Something—

Something passed between them—

Then she reared her head back, her mouth smeared with blood. His blood. She hopped back out of reach, then leaped up and caught the skylight, pulling herself clear. Her remaining servant was close behind.

For a long minute, all was quiet but the spider ghost's harsh breathing and the whistling wind outside.

"You," came a slow, thick voice, "are bitten." The spider ghost looked over to see Kravinoff's heavy lidded eyes open a slit, light glinting from his dark eyes.

Connors approached the spider ghost. "Spear," he observed.

"Spear," the spider ghost agreed.

Connors walked over to Kravinoff. "How do you feel?"

Kravinoff made a big production of trying to swallow. "I do not feel well," he said.

"Try not to talk," Connors said. He turned his attention back to the spider ghost. "Need help with that?" he asked.

"No," the spider ghost said. "Flanged. Not going to pull it out. Stuck in the wood. Here we go." He let out a shout and leaned forward. He slid off the shaft of the spear and collapsed on the floor, clutching his bloody shoulders.

"Medic," he said in a slightly strangled voice.

"Kill him," Kravinoff breathed.

"What?" said Connors, staring at him. The spider ghost peered over at him, woozy.

"Kill him," Kravinoff managed. "He is tainted with her bite. She will make him one of them."

"Keep this up," the spider ghost managed, "I don't think we're going to be friends much longer."

"Maybe if we clean out the wound?" Connors said.

"There is only one way," Kravinoff said. He cleared his throat. "Kill their queen, and unless he has succumbed to her energies he will be free."

"Sounds good," the spider ghost said, rising unsteadily. "I'll just web this shut and swing on my way."

Kravinoff struggled for energy and focus, still pushing his way clear of the anesthetic. "You would hasten… to your doom."

Connors stood out of the way, unsure of what to do. Kravinoff struggled for breath as he lay on the table. The spider ghost swayed on his feet. Then he pulled down his mask.

"Okay," he said. "As of right now, I'm out of my depth. This phone work?"

Kravinoff nodded, and Peter walked over and picked up the handset. He punched in a number.

He waited a bit. Then his face darkened. "Yeah, Logan, it's me," he said to the message recorder. "Look, I'll try back in a little bit. I hope you're in." He hung up, thought a moment. Punched in another number. Waited.

"Yeah, Doc, it's me," he said. "If you get this in the next, oh, hour or so could you find me? Thanks! Bye." He slammed the phone down, looked at it for a moment, then heaved a deep sigh.

"Doomed or no," he said, squinting at Kravinoff, "it's my only hope. All my tough guy pals are out of reach."

"The risk is too great," Kravinoff said hoarsely. "If you become hers, you will… be too dangerous."

Peter clenched his jaw. "I'm not a quitter," he said. "I'll find a way or die trying."

A long look passed between Kravinoff and Peter. Then the big man grunted a bit of a chuckle.

"I almost forgot," he managed, "your spirit. Very well, spider ghost," he said. He took a deep breath. "Open the cabinet there. Bring me the leather bag you find inside."

"You gonna kill me?" Peter asked uncertainly.

"No," Kravinoff said simply. "The bag."

Peter opened the cabinet and pulled out the bag. It was soft, smooth, worn leather. He took it to Kravinoff.

"Sit me up," the big man said.

"Too soon after surgery," Connors said quickly. "You'll dislodge the stitches if you exert yourself."

"Trust me," Kravinoff said. "Sit me up."

"I can't figure out why you even bothered to get a doctor," Connors said shortly, and he stalked into the adjoining room. Peter watched him go, then helped Kravinoff roll on his side and then get propped up to a seated position.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked quietly.

"You still have one tough guy pal," Kravinoff said. He slowly smiled at Peter, his eyes unfocused, his mouth bloody.

"No way," Peter said. "You even get up and you'll crash out and—" Peter grunted, and fell to one knee—

_eyes, dark eyes, pulling him in, pulling him down; his heart struggled to beat as a crushing pale hand closed around it; his breath struggled locked in his chest as his throat constricted; he felt death_

Peter gasped and fell on all fours, coughing.

"It will only get worse," Kravinoff said. "She will be going to ground somewhere she thinks is safe. Then she will bend all her energy through that wound, through your connection, until she has subverted you to her will."

"What do I do," Peter managed.

"Lay down," Kravinoff said. "Rest. Don't get agitated. Your blood will move faster, the contagion spread through your energy faster. Pretend it is a poison."

"And just what do you think you're going to do?" Peter asked.

"I once told you of time I spent in the jungle," Kravinoff said, opening the leather bag reverently. "I studied… their lore. I am sworn to never allow my prey to escape," he said. "So far, you are the only one that has. And so for you I will hunt this creature. For your humanity I will slay this monster." He pulled out a pouch, a few oilskin packets. "I will need your help."

"What's that stuff?" Peter asked, breathless.

"We'll just say drugs and leave it at that," Kravinoff responded. He opened the bag of powder. "The anesthetic has left me… thick and slow." He pulled out a pinch of the powder and sniffed it. His pupils dilated.

"Better," he growled. "Undo my bandages."

"You'll bleed to death no matter how hopped up on crack you are," Peter warned.

"I will not bleed to death," Kravinoff said, his eyes focusing with uncomfortably sharp scrutiny. "You will web my torso together for my hunt."

"I see," Peter said. "So, uh,"

"Just unwrap my bandages, help me apply a certain concoction I will make, then web me shut and leave me to my preparations. Or let me kill you."

"Fair enough, I guess," Peter said.

"Hot water. A bowl. Everything you need is under the sink. Do not delay. She will be close to her lair, then it will begin in earnest."

"Right," Peter said, and they got started.

**xXx**

"If I were poisoned," Peter said, "What would you do to delay the poison?"

Connors turned to look at him. They stood in the grimy lobby of the tenement building. "How is he?"

"He's absolutely insane. Answer the question."

"Well," Connors said slowly, "first I'd check for an antidote."

"Failing that," Peter said, "what then?"

"I'd give you a sedative, I suppose, and have you lie down."

"Let's get to it," Peter said. He was pale, his hands shook. "I don't feel so good."

"Are you sure it's a poison?"

"Kravinoff told me to treat it like it was one," Peter said, "and he would know. Let's go back upstairs."

"What about Kravinoff?" Connors said.

Peter shook his head. "He's gone," he said. "In so many ways, he is solid gone."

**xXx**

Kravinoff knelt on the roof, in the lee of the wind, incense steadily blowing away from him on the chill breeze. His eyes were closed as he focused on forgetting and remembering.

Awash in a gray sea, he felt no pleasure and he felt no pain. He was in a fog, where the biting chill could not find him. Then he began to remember.

He remembered scent, and the fog resolved itself somewhat into buildings, cars; he remembered hearing, and the echoes flung up to the sky from the canyons and corridors of the city reverberated in his mind. He remembered taste, kinesthetic, the feel of time slithering through him. He opened his eyes, remembering sight; everything resolved in painfully sharp detail. He remembered the pattering feel of the present, the precious stream of seconds he breathed in. He breathed steadily, warming the night sky in his lungs.

He forgot. He forgot the feeling of pain first. It had no meaning, no place in him. He forgot words next; they would not help him do what he was about to do. He forgot the finer sentiments of good and evil, of law, of justice. There was only one law that would guide him tonight. He forgot the past and the future, becoming a creature of senses and instinct alone.

The creature Kravinoff was becoming hunched down and tasted a drop of gore collected from the safehouse downstairs. The blood was cold and dark, and it tasted of ashes and decay.

Kravinoff closed his eyes and drank in the wind. Caught her traces on it.

Then in a smooth motion he slid to his feet and ran into the night after his prey. There was no escape for her now.

**xXx**

Peter lay down on the bed in Kravinoff's safe house. "So sedate me, I guess," he said.

Connors handed him a couple pills and a glass of filmy water. "Here you go," he said. "This shouldn't knock you out, just make things a little dreamy for a while."

"Better give me enough to knock me out," Peter said. "I have a bit of a speedy metabolism. You may have noticed."

"I suppose you do," Connors said, handing him the bottle. "I should have thought of that."

Peter opened the bottle and poured a few more pills out, then re-capped it and handed it to Connors. "Here goes," he said, and he washed down the mouthful of pills.

With a thin scream, a vampire with a crooked head charged from the shadows. Peter was up, pushing Connors aside, and thrusting with his leg in a smooth action. The kick caught the vampire in the chin, and with a crunch the rest of its neck went. Peter darted over to the broken table and snagged another table leg, then walked over and pinned the cripple to the floor.

"That's the one that met the pull-up bar," Peter said. He glanced around. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Oh?" Connors said.

"Necra knows exactly what's happening to me," Peter said slowly. "She's bound to send more of her creatures to force me to fight." He sat on the bed. "To speed my transformation." He glanced up, suddenly still, listening. "They're here," he murmured. "It's only a matter of time."

Connors looked thoughtfully at the roof, listening to the creaks that did not synchronize with the wind gusting outside. "I can protect you," he said. He walked over to the table and picked up a scalpel.

"Maybe you weren't paying attention," Peter said. "No, our only hope is to try to elude them in a running—" he gasped and doubled over—

_her teeth shining, his stomach shriveling, he felt his lungs crush under an unseen grip, heard her laughter as he struggled not to die_

"It's getting worse," Peter managed, a whine in his breathing as he lay on his back clutching his shoulder. He felt a painful thud each time his heart pushed his blood through his body, and he felt a strong urge to stop his heart so it would stop riling his blood up. He closed his eyes, tasting blood in his mouth, fighting for air.

"There's only one way we can defeat these things now," Connors said. He stripped off his coat and his shirt, standing bare-chested in the damp cold of the safehouse. On his right pectoral was a brilliant red and black tattoo, its pattern pulling the eye into it and away from it at the same time with an odd fascination.

Connors gazed down at Peter for a moment. "We become monsters," he said softly, "to save you from a similar fate." He smiled faintly. "I've waited for some time to repay a debt to you. This is my chance. You're the one who showed me that being a monster doesn't mean you can't be a hero too."

"Connors," Peter said faintly. "That's a really bad idea."

"It's the only hope left," Connors said. "For both of us. You'll survive this," he added. "It will be up to you to return me to my humanity."

He took the scalpel and cut an upside down V incision over the tattoo, then gritted his teeth as he peeled a flap of skin down a half an inch.

The border of the tattoo was breached.

Connors staggered back, breathing hard, eyes bright…

**xXx**

Kravinoff perched on the rooftop of the warehouse, looking at the huge ship moored at the dock. There. She was aboard. Its hull was streaked with rust, and it looked abandoned. Kravinoff could _feel _her lurking in the belly of the ship. He was moving, silent as shadow, as invisible as breath in moonlight.

A vampire stood on the deck of the ship, motionless, watchful. It did not see Kravinoff coming. The big man dropped, and as the vampire realized he was there, he rammed a pair of hedge shears into its chest and opened them, prying its ribs apart and shredding the heart. It screamed and toppled, smoking. Kravinoff yanked the shears out of its chest with the ring of steel against bone. He roared challenge. Then he cranked open the door and stared down into the noxious darkness, engulfed in a wave of air laden with the stink of rot and blood and filth.

He reached the hallway, facing three vampires in a space so narrow only one could fit at a time.

The creature that Kravinoff had become smiled, showing all his big square white teeth. He raised his shears, drew a massive knife from his belt, and advanced.

**xXx**

Peter gasped for air, limp on the bed, realizing he must have passed out for a moment. His sense of time was gone, his heart must have stopped. Dipped in death, however briefly. Peter fought to breathe, felt his heart sluggish and reluctant to pump. Through bleary eyes he looked around the room.

Three vampires dropped from the skylight, and one came in the door.

"Your goddess is lonely," one said, fangs flashing in the dimness. "We are here to collect you."

A shape uncoiled from the dimness, snapping into the vampire and sending both sailing across the lit patch and deep into shadow. A strangled scream was forced loose, and the floor vibrated with violent thrashings. Then all was quiet but a faint hiss, and steamy smoke drifted into the light.

The three vampires oriented on the shadow. They peered into it, the night holding no secrets from them. The creature that had destroyed their kin now stalked out to meet them.

Hunched and coiled, the creature had leathery skin and whipcord muscles. Its hands and feet were clawed, and it had a heavily muscled tail that lashed slowly behind it. Its head was that of a lizard, glittering dark eyes watching the vampires over a gaping mouth that emitted an oily hiss of menace.

"I don't know what it is," one of the vampires said, "so let's kill it."

**xXx**

Kravinoff stood, battered and bloodied, leaning on the doorframe and glaring at the pale woman. She was in the hold, sitting in the light of a circle of candles, eyes rolled back in her head, a ghastly rictus grin across her face. Her eyes trembled, then rolled down in her head so she could see.

"You again," she said. "I thought you'd be dead by now."

Kravinoff knew no words. He squared off with her.

"Oh, this should be amusing," she said.

He stalked closer.

She stood in a fluid motion and breezily approached. "I breathe on you and you fall over," she said, and she swiped at him with a backhand.

He leaned out of the way, and thrust with the knife. It zipped over her shoulder and plunged into her throat under her jawbone, its tip scraping the inside of her skull on the other side of her head. Kravinoff tugged it free and hopped back, crouched and ready for combat.

Necra slapped her hand to her throat and staggered back, eyes wide, as precious blood sprayed out. In a moment of shock she realized she was feeling real pain.

Kravinoff smiled, eyes glittering and savage. Necra narrowed her eyes and flared her nostrils.

"Mortal," she spat.

The fight began.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter stirred, feeling blood slowly trickle out of his mouth towards his ear. His torso felt as though he had been battered for a few hours by someone big. He struggled to raise his head, feeling half alive. He was indeed half alive; he could feel his living system doing battle with a lethargy that concealed a tremendous power for an insupportable price.

He struggled to focus as the lizard creature hissed furiously, crashing through a thin partition in the loft. Peter blinked in time to see the vampire sink its jaws into the lizard's arm.

The lizard snatched the vampire's face with its talons and wrenched, bursting the vampire's jaw muscles and tearing its face. The lizard clamped its mouth on the vampire's throat and tore it out, then tossed it aside like a broken doll.

As Peter looked around the dim room he saw smoke drifting and coiling in the breezy room. That was the last vampire.

The lizard, furious and wounded, glared around with a warning hiss.

Then it saw its most hated enemy.

It crouched and advanced, tail slowly lashing. It closed in on the spider ghost…

**xXx**

Kravinoff ducked her rapid strike and plunged his knife through her knee, tearing it out as he spun away. She shrieked and pounced, catching his back, and he slung her off to slam into a wall full force. She curled out of the way as he closed in, slashing.

Then she was behind him, and she shoved him into the wall with a clang. She leaned in close, her tongue darting out to taste the air. "This is where it ends," she snarled, gripping his head.

He smiled.

**xXx**

Peter felt his eyes glaze as the lizard stalked closer. He could feel the surging struggling power within him, and he knew that all he had to do to survive this and kill the lizard was to surrender his life. He felt every fiber of his nerves, every ounce of bone in his body fighting the death that was pulling on him, pulling him down into a morass of permanent darkness. His breath was thin and shallow.

Peter felt a moment of clarity as he made his decision.

"Better to die," he gritted out, and his hands feebly clutched the sheets of the bed as the lizard gathered itself for a spring. "I will not… surrender…"

The lizard's hiss deepened and swarmed with menace, then it hesitated. It blinked. It growled again, uncertainly this time. It staggered back a step, tail twitching, then clutched its head and groaned. The lizard collapsed and curled up behind a rack of debris from the fight.

Peter lay back, drifting in and out of consciousness, when he felt a lightness come to him. He felt giddy, and he wondered if he was at last dying. It was very peaceful.

Connors pulled himself out of the wreck of the flimsy interior wall and pulled on clothes. "I feel… terrible," he said. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Peter said dreamily. "I feel good. Except my arms hurt a little. Are you okay?"

"I am stronger," Connors said, pressing his hand against his chest. "I forced the lizard back. Took control."

"Helps that most of the tattoo was still there," Peter noted.

"Yes," Connors said. He moved his hand. The wound had healed, but left little pale scars on either side of where he had cut the tattoo before his chest healed. "We must all be stronger than the darkness inside us." He smiled ruefully. "And I need to get to a tattoo parlor right away."

"I think I'm going to live," Peter said, a touch of wonder in his voice. His heart beat was smooth and strong, his breathing easy and relaxed. "I'm tired, but Kravinoff must have gotten the vampire. Tell you what, though. I'm about to pass out for like twelve hours. Got any uppers?"

"This is such a bad idea," Connors said. He heaved a sigh. "Yes."

"Ooh, gimmie a handful," Peter said. Connors tossed him the bottle and he broke the top off and poured a few pills out.

"Do you know of any tattoo parlors that would be open at this hour?" Connors asked.

"I'm a college student in New York," Peter said. "Get your coat and we'll go."

**xXx**

"So what are you going to do now?" Connors asked as the streetlamps rhythmically lit and shadowed the interior of the cab.

"Get Kravinoff," Peter said. "I need to make sure he's okay."

"How will you begin to look for him?" Connors asked.

Peter shrugged. "One of the vampires shot me with a speargun. It wasn't new, or for show. It was nicked and scratched. Plus their clothes reeked of polluted water and rust. They're somewhere on the docks."

"And you can narrow it down from there," Connors said doubtfully.

"I'll trust to luck," Peter said with a secret smile.

"Suit yourself," Connors said. "You've certainly spiced up my trip," he added with a sigh.

"I do what I can," Peter said with a slightly sheepish grin. "Sorry about the mess. Lunch, my treat, tomorrow before you go."

"Fair enough," Connors said. "I'll let you get in touch with me."

"Here we are," Peter said as the cab pulled up to the curb in front of a seedy barber shop. "Their setup is downstairs. You should be fine."

"See you tomorrow," Connors said. He chuckled. "I hope they don't start anything with me in my current state. Could be bad for them."

"Watch yourself," Peter said. "I'll see you later today."

Connors stepped out of the cab and slammed the door.

"Where to?" asked the cabbie.

"The docks," Peter said. "Step on it."

**xXx**

The dark hold shifted and creaked as the waves slid along the metal hull of the rusting ship. Stealthy footsteps rustled along the metal.

"Kravinoff?" a voice said uncertainly, echoing in the metal room.

Peter heard a groan, and he moved faster. He knelt by a dark shape, then rolled him over into a narrow shaft of moonlight that pushed through the grimy porthole.

Kravinoff's face was cut, and his mouth was bloody. His eyes fluttered, then opened. They were full of pain.

"Parker," Kravinoff managed. "I still live."

"You're going to live," Peter said, checking his pulse. "Hang in there. I'll get you out of this."

"Guns," Kravinoff said. He pointed.

"Later. First I have to get you back to my place." He hefted the heavy man, then as carefully as he could he carried him out of the ship and back up to the pavement.

"Big tip night and you didn't see anything," Peter said to the cabbie as he muscled Kravinoff into the cab.

"Eyes ta da road, dat's me," the cabbie grunted.

Twenty minutes later the cab pulled to a stop outside an apartment building. Peter slipped a hundred dollar bill to the cabbie and carried Kravinoff up the stairs to his place.

"Home sweet home," he said, opening the door and supporting Kravinoff as he staggered in. He slung the huge man down on the couch. "Don't worry about blood stains. Just hang in there."

"Howju fin me?" Kravinoff asked, his breathing shallow.

"I have my ways," Peter said with a grin, the scent of his spider tracer pheromones strong from where he had put it on Kravinoff's bandages. "I could tell you, but that would get awkward if you ever decide to kill me again."

Peter reapplied webbing to Kravinoff's wounds where they had torn open from his exertions, and he poured peroxide on his new cuts and webbed them too. "Broken bones and organs will have to wait for now," Peter said. "How do you feel?"

Kravinoff managed a weak smile. "You have to go back," he said. "Things… things I know you must see."

"I will," Peter said, "as soon as I'm sure you'll be alright."

"I must live," Kravinoff coughed out. "The hunt is not yet over."

"But you got Necra. Right?" Peter said.

Kravinoff stared into his eyes, an inner fire burning in him. "Necra was the emissary. She is nothing. Something else is beneath. And beneath that." He gripped Peter's sleeve. "I will find and slay what is behind it all, spider ghost. Nothing will stop me."

"Well," Peter said slowly, "that's nice, but you need to take a nap."

Kravinoff leaned back, asleep.

"Good," Peter said. He checked the time. Quarter to three. He walked over to his table and looked down at a foil wrapped package and a note. He smiled fondly as he opened the note.

_Hey Danger Butt_

_Hope you got home in one piece._

_If the world is now safe from the_

_forces of evil I'll stitch you up_

_tomorrow. If you're a heel who_

_stood me up, come on by if you_

_get in before midnight._

_MJ_

Peter peeked under the foil and saw a tall piece of chocolate cake. He chuckled, then left the note and the cake.

"World isn't safe from the forces of evil just yet," he muttered, and he headed back out.

**xXx**

Peter peered around in the rusted hold of the ship. He saw piles and smears of ash and muddy gore here and there, and a glint of metal on the wall caught his eye. He walked over and saw a pair of hedge clippers rammed into the metal wall of the hold, and dangling from the blades a brittle bone eye socket and cheekbone. He gingerly touched the bone and it fell to ash. He shivered.

"So long, Necra," he murmured. Then he played the flashlight over the boxes stacked on the other side of the hold.

He stopped. He pried one open.

Guns.

Lots of guns.

He pried open another one. Grenades. Another. A portable rocket launcher.

"Wow," he whispered. "Hot damn."

His mind had already formulated a plan.

**xXx**

"Somebody better be dead," grunted the voice on the other end of the line.

"Oh," Peter said. "I guess it is three thirty. Hey, Doug, I need a favor and I'm willing to share information to get it."

"Parker," Doug said. "I appreciate that you took me to a _very_ nice restaurant to reward me for the last time you woke me up at an ungodly hour to be your personal encyclopedia. I must warn you. The next time you do this they will not find all your pieces."

"I found a weapons shipment of military grade materials loaded on a ship to be smuggled out of New York," Peter said. "I have the dock number and the ship name. This is big. Really big."

"Okay," Doug said, sounding more alert. "That's news. What are you planning to do about it? You don't want to start anything with Fisk again do you?"

"Not a chance," Peter said, "but I can't let it go, either. That brings me to the favor I need."

"What's that?"

Peter grinned.

"Just need an unlisted number, that's all."

**xXx**

The phone jangled, and the sleeping man fumbled for it. He caught it up. "Hlo?" he managed, squinting at the clock in the darkness.

"Brilhart," came the voice on the other end. "I got an anonymous tip for ya."

"Who is this?" Brilhart managed.

"Yer informant pal," came the other voice, deliberately roughened. Brilhart blinked himself awake.

"How did you get this number?"

"Pier thirty one, the Dark Mistress out of Singapore. In the hold is a shipment of military grade weaponry ready to move. Better get it fast, it's unguarded as of right now but that won't last until morning."

"Hey," Brilhart said. The phone clicked a disconnection.

The shape on the bed next to him stirred. "Who was that?"

"Gotta go," he said shortly, and he was moving.

Far away, Peter Parker grinned as he hung up the phone.

**xXx**

Peter blearily yawned, then stretched. He glanced at his alarm clock and noticed it was almost noon. "Got my eight hours," he said with a grin, and he hopped out of bed feeling a bit soggy. He trudged into the living room and glanced at the couch. Kravinoff was gone. Peter sighed, not entirely surprised. He looked over the web bandages he had over both shoulders, and sighed. "If I want food I gotta move my arms," he muttered. He opened the fridge, wincing.

On the rack in the fridge was a small leather bag. He pulled it out, and saw it was weighting down a piece of paper. He picked the paper up.

"A souvenir," he read aloud. He hefted the bag, it was about the size of a hackey sack. He sniffed it, and caught the pungent stink of vampiric ashes.

"We give each other the cutest presents," he grinned to himself, and he shut the fridge. He hung the sack over the kitchen sink, then scooped up the foil covered cake and stripped it.

"Hello breakfast," he said to himself. Then he blinked. "Hang on," he said. "Lunch with Connors. Right." He replaced the cake. "Your days are numbered, though," he said sternly to the dessert. "Now I gotta shower and stuff…"

**xXx**

Connors was moving slowly as he walked into the lobby of the Chinese restaurant. Peter stood and greeted him.

"What's up, Doc," he said. "You look a little stiff today."

"You should if you don't," chided Connors. "That was a hell of a night."

"I have the resiliency of youth," Peter said with a puckish grin.

A few minutes later they were seated, their order placed.

"So how is Kravinoff this morning?" Connors asked. "Did he survive?"

"He's tough, you have to give him that," Peter said. "He killed the vampires and hung in there until I could get him to my place and bandage him up. When I woke up this morning he had let himself out. Too bad. I guess he's not much one for goodbyes."

"Me either," Connors said. He shrugged. "Who is?"

"Thanks for having lunch with me," Peter said. "_I_ like goodbyes. Take care of yourself in Florida."

"Peter," Connors said, "I never felt more helpless than I did the time you saved me from… from my transformation. Since then I have taken great pains to never let the genie out of the bottle, so to speak. I have to thank you for saving me when the lizard manifested last spring. And," he added as he carefully adjusted his silverware, "I have to thank you for forcing me to unleash it and control it. For the first time," he said, raising his eyes to Peter, "I'm not afraid. I have mastered it. While it's true I won't unleash the lizard intentionally unless it's that or death," he said, looking down at the table again, "now I know I'm strong enough. Stronger than I realized."

"In a way, that makes us even," Peter said. "Maybe more than you know." He smiled briefly.

"To man over monster," Connors said, raising his glass.

"I'll drink to that," said Peter.

They did.

5


End file.
